


the Insomnia Brothers

by reset-after-reset (relvius)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sibling Incest, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:25:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5316974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relvius/pseuds/reset-after-reset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And his brother kept making 100's of midnight snacks. And Papyrus himself doesn't??? Know how to sleep?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	the Insomnia Brothers

Sans stumbles off of the mattress, out his room, and down the stairs. He heads for the kitchen for some time-wasting snack or another, but stops when he registers how bright the living room is. The TV is on, muted and lighting up Papyrus huddled in a blanket on the couch. It takes a moment, but Papyrus turns to look at Sans and his eyes break into a smile.

“GOOD MORNING, SANS!” he says, a bit too loud.

Sans doesn't need to check the time to know it's entirely too early to be saying that.  He’s been maddeningly awake since giving Papyrus his bedtime story. Still, he smiles and replies with, “morning,” before sitting on the couch as well, relieved to not have to go through the effort of deciding what snack to grab this time. On the TV, the blocky Mettaton is playing multiple lead roles in some drama. Muted and without subtitles, it’s impossible to tell what’s going on, especially without clear facial expressions.

“having fun?”

“MMHMM.” Papyrus is hunched forward, eyesockets half-lidded. “IT’S--” He fails to hold back a yawn. “-- INTERESTING.”

“go to sleep, pap.” The hypocrisy doesn’t escape him, but it’s worth saying anyway. “d’you need me to read to you again?”

“WHAT? NO???” Papyrus jerks perfectly awake at the offense. “NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR PEEK-A-BOO WITH FLUFFY BUNNY.”

Sans lets out a chuckle to let Papyrus know that he wasn’t being entirely serious, then yawns -- damn that contagion.

“YOU’RE THE SLEEPY ONE, SANS. DO YOU NEED ME TO READ YOU A STORY?” A pause. “I AM NOT READING FROM YOUR JOKE BOOK.”

The image of Papyrus struggling through a text about quantum mechanics flashes through Sans’ head. “nah, bro.” He settles into the couch, laying with his head against the armrest. One of the Mettatons seemed to be dying now in a very drawn out scene. Despite himself, his eyelids begin to flutter and close. Somehow, sleep suddenly seems much more attainable.

 

* * *

 

A blanket thrown across him startles Sans almost awake again. Papyrus moves to lay by him -- or more accurately, with the width of the couch, on top of him. Despite being all length and hard bones, he positions himself against Sans in a perfectly comfortable way. How many times had this scene repeated?

Sans drifts off again.

 

* * *

 

Something presses against his soul, warm and friendly and full of love. It's nice.

 

* * *

 

He's first aware of pleasurable movement in his groin. Then: a single finger running up and down his tailbone, catching on the ridges, making him groan and thrust gently into the sensation. Then: Papyrus leaning over him, one arm curled over Sans’ head propping him up, the other-- oh. Sans’ soul tightens with the realization, and a moan chokes still halfway out his throat.

Papyrus freezes as well, and in the dim light Sans can see his eyes widen. “S-Sans,” he says, more uncertain and faltering than Sans has maybe ever heard him before. “I, uh-- Would you like me to-- stop…? I mean, I--”

When Sans doesn't respond, Papyrus retreats. The blanket over them withdraws with him, and since when was their house so damn cold? It's all Sans can do at first to shake his head, but Papyrus is still shrinking back.

“no, that, uh.” Was he dreaming? It felt unreal. “that felt nice.”

Papyrus doesn't respond immediately either. Finally, the words come, uncharacteristically quiet, “Can I continue…?”

Sans finds himself nodding, and relaxes back into the couch as Papyrus’ hand makes its way back under his shorts. His head spins as bony fingers first caress the front of his pelvis, then move back towards his tailbone and spine. Papyrus is just gazing at him with something like curiosity? Enthrallment?

But he's petting so slowly. Sans lets out a quiet grunt of frustration to try to encourage Papyrus further, but he doesn’t seem to respond. It takes a few moments to figure out what to say exactly -- part of his mind won’t let him get over the fact that this is his brother, for god’s sake. “you-- you gonna go any faster than that?”

Papyrus obliges, now multiple fingers alternatively rubbing and gripping at Sans’ vertebrae then tailbone then up the illium, and it seems like Papyrus just knows where exactly to touch and how. Sans throws his head back, mostly to avoid having to meet Papyrus’ ridiculously intense gaze. His hands find their way to Papyrus’ chest and curl into his ribs.

“why are you--?”

“Shh.”

And just like that, that part of Sans’ mind shuts off. He thrusts into Papyrus’ hand and lets himself make a soft moan. Papyrus is planted firmly between his legs, and all Sans can think to do is straddle Papyrus and his hand as best he can, to bring him closer. He tugs in at Papyrus’ ribs before realizing how uncomfortable that must be and instead opting to wrap his arms around Papyrus’ neck, pulling so tight he lifts himself partly off the couch. All that matters is getting closer to Papyrus, closer and closer and--

“p-papyrus, i--”

“Shh.”

Sans ducks his head into the nook of Papyrus’ neck and lets out a long, quiet moan as he comes, Papyrus pressing one finger hard into the perfect spot on the base of his spine. He doesn't want to let go, even as Papyrus removes his hand, but it doesn't take long for the effort of holding himself off of the couch to get to him. He collapses down, and his brother is still arched over him, beaming so brightly that Sans can't help but smile up at him.

Sans is certainly not going to be the one to ruin the moment by asking what the hell just happened, they're brothers and how long had Papyrus been thinking about this, while he was asleep no less? But one question nags at him more than any other. “so, uh, should i be getting you off?” he asks with an attempt at a casual gesture down towards Papyrus’ pelvis.

Disappointment flashes across Papyrus’ face, making Sans hate himself just a bit more. “Do you want me off?”

“that's -- that's not what i mean. i mean, pleasure you…?”

Maybe he shouldn't even ask, just do: move his hands lower, stroke first down Papyrus’ back feeling the parts of him almost familiar but not quite, and press and rub against all the right places until he’s begging. Papyrus’ face would sure look good, wouldn't it? But it's all so unappealing, when all he wants to do is lay there with Papyrus so close, feeling safe and honestly sleepy for the first time in who knows how long -- or maybe that's just a poor excuse for laziness.

“Oh!” Papyrus looks legitimately lost in thought for a few moments. “Nah.”

It's not at all the answer Sans was preparing for. “r-really? i swear i’m--”

“Shh.” Papyrus lays down onto Sans, an arm wrapping around his chest. “I just like seeing you happy, Sans.”

And he is.

 

**Author's Note:**

> more unidirectional touch, less calling Sans a "pillow prince" daaaang it


End file.
